


Finding Salvation

by Ellenyx (klahiie), klahiie



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Satanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klahiie/pseuds/Ellenyx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/klahiie/pseuds/klahiie
Summary: A story focusing on Gary Harrison; the Mormon boy after cutting off ties of being Stan’s friend. A story of changing times, being closet gay, and breaking out of his family’s cult.This was mostly just a fic about an OOC version of Gary for a group I’m in. Don’t mind me, comment if you enjoy move on if not.
Relationships: Gary Harrison x oc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

  
  


Fading away to the background of the little town was something he hadn’t expected. For a brief little bit of time after defending himself against Stan, he’d become popular enough for the other kids to want something to do with him, but that soon faded away as well. Invites to parties began to stop, the friends who held conversations with him stopped responding, even in person. 

He was alone, even though he was surrounded by people. Eventually he stopped trying, his family being all he needed. But as time went on, he began to realize that his family life was just as fleeting as his friendships. 

Soon his fathers friendly and loving mask began to crumble, and he began to get paranoid. Then his mother began to shut down, her silence bringing out the worst of his father. 

He was a few years older now, a stranger in this quiet little podunk town, although he’d been trapped in it for what felt like a hundred years. His faith was fragile as he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he reflected back on the fateful day that changed everything. The day Stan Marsh brought to light the ridiculous nature of their religion. The conversation that rocked the very foundation of his faith to the core. The conversation that sowed the seed of mistrust into his father. 

Suddenly there was the sound of muffled yelling, so out of place Gary sat up, his eyebrows furrowed. One voice was recognizable; a voice he heard shouting so often nowadays, but the other was harder to place. When all of a sudden, the violent sound of a body hitting the wall made him jump, voices so loud they must have been outside his door. It was instinct. It was instinct to jump to his feet and run to his bedroom door, yanking it open in time to catch his father and oldest brother grappling as if one was an intruder and they were fighting them off.

But which one was which?

“Dad! Dad whoa!” He rushed out into the hall to stop the brawl, hands moving up to grab them. His sister Jenny had the same idea, spilling out of the room her and her husband occupied. Of course Mark pulled to a stop, grappling with his father to redirect the attempt to fling him into the body of the bystanders. However, his father wanted none of that. 

Grabbing his oldest son by the hair, he shoved him, the young man bumping into his sister and knocking her back into the wall. Gary’s eyes widened as he noticed her hand drop to her belly, her hand cupping a rather large bump as their father descended. She was pregnant?

Grabbing his arm, Gary pulled his father back only to receive a brash palm across the lips, sending the teen stumbling back and into the wall. “You ungrateful little bastard! I give you a roof over your head and stability and this is how you repay me?!” He spat, veins trailing up his neck. 

Gary held his hand over his mouth, blinking back tears as the pain bit through his lip and into his teeth. Was he talking to him? Or Mark? It was hard to tell with the anger bloodshot eyes burrowing into his soul, face red with all of the words he bit back. 

“Jen is pregnant! You just hit her, are you insane?” Gary could hardly hold the words back, feeling desperate to get even a sliver of the man he remembered from his childhood back. But it was a failed effort. Sputtering angrily, he reached for him, fingers grabbing at his hair. 

“How dare you! How dare- insolent- traitorous swine!” Gary gasped. Swiping his hand away he ducked the lunging motion that followed the failed attempt to grab him and down the stairs he went, taking them quickly but not urgently until he heard the mighty pounding of feet behind him. All at once, his feet lept steps, two by two till he reached the bottom of the stairs. Grabbing his boots he ran out the door, socks sliding on the slick sidewalk. 

His father bellowed like a great beast from a movie, the front door slamming behind him. Panting, Gary stopped, bending down to put his boots on, eyes snapping behind him to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Once on and fastened, he began jogging, wishing to be somewhere where he couldn’t be found should his father decide to get dressed and chase him. 

He didn’t know where he was going, his mind a mess, glued to the memory of his father’s enraged expression as fingers tugged at his hair. Suddenly he bumped into someone, the solid body knocking the air from his lungs as he stumbled backwards. “I’m so sorry!” He caught himself apologizing before he could find out if he’d run into a person or a thing. However, his words froze to his lips when he spotted black robes, black skull makeup and in one hand a human skull. 

His blood froze just as quick as his words, lips frigidly twitching the attempt at words as the figure turned to face him. “I-I’m-“ his vision narrowed, tapering before going black. His knees gave away, body falling to the ground as his mind fell into fear stricken darkness, left at the hands of the stranger in black robes. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary has too personal a conversation with a complete stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on iPhone. Long as shit. Remember this is OOC, everyone’s about 16 here, Gary’s family turned into one of those toxicy cult families. I wrote most of this while falling asleep. None of these convos went how I wanted them to 👍🏽
> 
> Also anyone wondering; Gary’s closet gay.

Ch 2

  
  


Hours passed, and when he woke, he was laying next to a fire by Stark’s Pond. Grunting, he rolled to his chest, pushing his hands into what happened to be a blanket, and pushed himself to his knees. A hand reached out to steady him -a gesture he was grateful for until he remembered why he’d fainted to begin with. 

Gasping he pulled away, head snapping around to see the same familiar figure. This time he was able to get a better look at him. 

The makeup was gone, leaving behind lightly sun kissed skin and amber eyes. Dusty, dark brown hair swept back out of his face, shaved on the sides -he’s never seen this boy before. South Park was a small town, everyone knew everyone, so it wasn’t often anyone met someone they  _ didn’t  _ know. “Sorry for the fright.” The guy laughed lightly, sitting back on his blanket. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to go down so hard. It was like knocking over a display of doors at a hardware store.” He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Gary didn’t understand right away, then realized that, yes, he fainted, and by the sounds of it -and state of his shirt- he’d hit the ground. 

“You didn’t bother to catch me?” The blonde asked, grimacing as he sat back on his butt. He tried to brush the long set dirt off, only successfully smearing it in deeper. 

“I’m sorry, my hands were full. And to be honest, I didn’t  _ expect  _ you to go down, or to even bump into me like, hel-lo.” The boy laughed, resting his elbows on his knees. He brushed his finger under his nose, the corner of his toothy grin twisting in a way Gary found himself staring at. “My name is Vincent, you can call me Vinny if you want.” He held his hand out. 

Gary looked down at his hand, tracing the jewelry on his wrist; bracelets, bracers, a tattoo of a pentagram. Uh oh...he frowned a little but it wasn’t his place to judge. Reaching up, he grabbed the other boys hand, long, slender fingers curling around his in return. 

“Gary, Gary Harrison.” He replied, figuring the least he could do was remain polite. “If I may be so bold, can I ask what you’re doing out here?” He knew it wasn’t any of his business, and that he should keep his mouth shut, thank him, and leave, but he had an itching feeling in the back of his mind that wanted confirmation. The other seemed to understand the silent judgment but he took it with stride and nodded. 

“It’s a weekday. I’m out here doing what one would call a  _ ‘ritual’  _ of sorts.” He chuckled, leaning back. He put his hands on the blanket behind him, letting the heat from the fire beat against his back. 

“Uh huh, and you don’t live in South Park, so...is it a  _ nefarious  _ ritual?” Gary pushed, his arms crossed, but instead of sitting across his chest let them drape across his lap. 

“I don’t live in South Park?” Vinny whistled, eyebrows bouncing in mock disbelief that had Gary feeling irritated, but before the blonde could speak, Vinny continued. “I’m new here, I’ve only been here about 6 months.” He admitted, leaning forward to mirror the blondes pose. 

“6 months isn’t really all that  _ new _ ,” Gary tried his best not to huff, or be incredulous at all, but he couldn’t succeed at both. “Why haven’t I seen you in school? Why haven’t I seen your parents? Where do you live?” The questions poured out. They were unfair questions that he had no right to ask, let alone expect an answer from, but Vinny took it in stride. Humoring him, he chuckled and dragged his palm down across his mouth before looking up at him with a set of devilishly stunning blue eyes. 

“I don’t go to school, I dropped out and got my GED. I also don’t live with my parents because I’m emancipated so I won’t have to deal with them, and I’m living here because people seemed like they minded their own business,” he said softly, but the last comment cut Gary deeper than he expected, filling him with the sense of guilt. “And to answer the next barrage of questions, no doubt bumbling around in your mind like a 90’s screensaver, I live alone, and what I’m doing out here is in regards to religion.” He settled down any further questions, although it was curious how he brought religion into it. Gary had been wondering exactly what he was doing out here dressed like that, and he had seen the bracelet, but he wasn’t aware if the answer was brought on because he was used to that procession of questioning, or if he’d caught the glimpse the blonde had given his jewelry. 

“Hence the Satan worshipping bracelet around your wrist.” Gary muttered, looking back down at it. But the question had the brunette tilting his head, mouth slightly agape, eyes narrow as he looked at him, then at the bracelet around his wrist. He laughed, shaking his head, pearly white teeth catching the flickering light from the fire they sat beside. 

“This is a Pentacle, a symbolism of unity in the Pagan religion hosting all five elements. Air, fire, water, spirit and earth. No, my jewelry has no denomination over my religion, as sad as that may sound, but you were correct.” Pushing himself to his feet he made his way over to a cooler by the fire and grabbed out two bottles of soda, returning. He handed one down to Gary, but the blonde hesitated to take it. “It’s grape. You ok with grape?” He asked, a teasing tone in his voice. Biting his lip, Gary looked up at him and took the bottle, lipping a silent  _ ‘thank you’ _ as he did. “I’m a satanist, my ritual was to the god Abigor, or Eligos. You see,” he returned to his seat across from him, back to the fire as he opened the soda and took a sip. He wiped the residue of the purple carbonated liquid off his upper lip as he spoke once more. Abigor conjured for his power to fortell the future and provide military aid and advice. He’s shows either in the form of a handsome night bearing a lance and standard, or as a ghostly specter riding a winged horse.” He grinned, placing the bottle beside him. 

“And you’re here to...do what in said ritual?” Gary felt himself tense with the question, wondering what sort of ritual was being held. Who was this boy, what was he doing? Who would get hurt?

“Simply? Ask for advice.” He replied, crossing his legs. Underneath the black robes he donned were a pair of tight, black leather pants and a pair of boots that poked out from the bottom. Gary stared at him confused for a moment before shaking his head, not realizing that that was the end of that train of thought. 

“Ask advice.” He repeated dully. 

“Yep.” Vinny replied, a gentle little smile on his lips. “Hard to believe huh?” Screwing the cap back on, he sighed and placed the bottle beside him. “Unfortunately, now that I’ve told you, I’m gonna have to kill you.” His blue eyes shifted back up to him, sly, dark, sharpened by thick lashes. Gary felt his heart race. Standing, he made to leave but a grasp on the back of his shirt jerking him to a stop halted him in his tracks. “I’m kidding! Jesus Christ!” 

The boy nearly cackled, coughing from the cold winter air. Gary turned to look at him, feeling his face flush with heat as he stood there in embarrassment. “Did you really think I was going to  _ kill _ you? That’s insane!” 

“Well how the hell was I supposed to know?” The blonde shrugged almost dramatically, tossing his hands up beside his waist. 

“Get to  _ know _ me? Or have you  _ always _ been this intolerant?” The boys’ laughter trailed off, but the smile remained on his lips. Although the question was light hearted, it hit hard for Gary. No, he was never this intolerable when he was younger. He welcomed anyone of any faith as long as they were friendly to him, and even if they weren’t! So when did he start to become so judgmental? 

He looked away, eyebrows furrowed as he played his life over in his mind, scrubbing through blurring memories to find the exact moment he became this...tired, judgmental...pessimist. 

He knew. 

The moment he cut Stan out of his life. He had tried to repair his image on his religion, but everything began to look fake to him. A fake family, like playing dolls in a hand painted dollhouse, and the older they got the more the walls chipped and windows cracked and the loving father crumbled into this intolerant beast with control issues. “No, I haven’t always been this intolerant.” He whispered. 

Vinny stopped and stared at him for a long moment, noting the silence around him now. The way the corner of his lips darkened just a bit. Neither of them said anything for a handful of minutes, then all at once Vinny pushed himself up and moved to sit on the side of a downed log. 

“You know, I was emancipated from my parents. When they found out who I really was, they didn’t want to support me anymore. That was their only job; support, nurture, love me.” He picked up a stick and poked the fire. “When they failed to do that, I thought ‘do I want to stay and change to be like them so they can decide to love me? Or do I wanna leave for myself and be who I am’?” He looked up at the blonde, putting the stick on the ground once more at his feet. “You’re dressed awfully  _ smart _ . What religion are your parents?” 

The question was random; Gary’s eyebrows furrowing from how different it seemed from the topic before. He didn’t look up, lips pursing as he thought about this stranger, who he’d just mets, words. 

“Mormon.” He admitted. He honestly didn’t know what he was expecting to happen next. Part of him wanted to be insulted so he had an excuse to storm off into the woods and never see this boy again. 

“Ah. Picture perfect family life when you were a kid, huh?” Vinny whistled. Reaching up he rolled a silver ear cuff through the hole. “Grew up with siblings living that nuclear family life. Board games and pot roast fresh from the crockpot. But when you grow older, you start to see cracks in that happy family mask. Dad starts to get angry because you or a sibling wants to leave, or stray from the rules just once or twice. 

“The illusion starts to fade, and the illusion starts to fade because dad loses the control, and after all, he who controls the illusion remains in control.” He took a deep breath in, held it, and exhaled; breathing billowing from his lips like smoke that dissipated in the night. “The more you realize that childhood happiness was manufactured, the more distance you put between you and him, and people who like control don’t like distance. Especially not patriarchs. Soon you’re left with an angry man who witnessed the fading mirage, but pinned the blame on himself and tried to fix it with his own family by squeezing on tighter to those hypothetical reigns.” He offered a tight smile. 

Gary didn’t want to admit he felt his words. He didn’t want to admit he understood and identified it all in his own living situation. Not by a person he barely met, not by a Satanist. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied, haughtily, feeling his blood boil. “Me being Mormon has nothing to do with any of that, and none of that has anything to do with me, so I’d suggest watching your mouth.” He nearly hissed, but the venom didn’t seem to surprise the other. 

“You’re Mormon. You left your house in a button up shirt, just boots, no coat, no phone and you’re beginning to sport a healthy ass bruise across your lips. You were so distressed when you ran into me you passed out.” Vinny pushed himself to his feet and stepped over the drinks in the middle of the blanket, coming chest to chest, face to face with him. “Tell me I’m wrong, Gary. I’m Catholic baby boy, a priests son and youngest boy of 6, I had my own cult to break away from. Tell me I’m wrong.” His voice was deep, reverberating from the blondes ears, through his chest and into the pit of his stomach. 

Gary felt like he was grabbed by the throat, staring deep into the eyes of a viper. A Catholic. A man who grew up in a cult of his own, a  _ priests _ boy. The words  _ baby boy  _ were hard to choke on and all he could imagine was this smokey eyed devil worshipper in a cassock and stole. 

This boy was dangerous. Maybe not in sense of physical harm, but just the very air he gave off felt like a suffocating blanket of heat, the smoldering of fire. He didn’t fear for his life, no, but a little bubbling of paranoia in the seat of his chest told him if he didn’t back away now, he would be stripped of everything he was and rewritten. 

Pulling away, he pushed his drink into the chest of the other man and turned, heading back into the trail leading away from Starks Pond. Each nerve in his body lit with sparks that shot up and down his arms and legs, tingling along his spine. 

It didn’t matter. He’d never see him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary contemplates the past and asks all the wrong questions, further damaging his relationship with Stan. Luckily he finds a way he can repair it.

Ch 3

  
  


Getting home, Gary got a tongue lashing of the century, and the entire time he was stuck imagining the screaming face of his father’s chipping away like aged porcelain. Even as he woke up at 4am to shower, and make sure his sister and brother were dressed, and as he helped his mother make breakfast. 

As he sat silently at the table with his siblings staring at the casserole dishes of eggs and bacon, toast and pancakes and maple syrup and sausage and fruit. Not a word was uttered until his father’s feet touched the stairs. All rose to their feet as he came down, his blonde hair peppered with grey, his face neatly shaved, clothes pressed and perfect. 

“Good morning family!” He sang as if nothing in the world was wrong. 

“Good morning Dad.” The company around the table chanted, trying to sound as upbeat as they could. He kissed his wife on the lips, then kissed his kids before sitting; a sign for them all to sit but their mother who served them, starting with her husband. 

He thought of the crumbling mask as prayer was said, and when he boasted up one side of them and down the other how God had blessed them with the perfect family. Until Amanda requested to have a poptart instead of food. 

Just like that, the illusion was shattered, his father screaming at her about how ungrateful she was, how their mother stood and insisted a poptart was fine to have which enraged their  _ ‘Patriarch’ _ . He left the house after sweeping up the shattered remains of the casserole dish that held fried potatoes his father elected to whip at the wall in rage. 

_ He who controls the illusion _ …

He stared at Stan from his desk in the back of the room, feeling his stomach flip. He’d felt so empowered for so long after defending himself against Stanley so long ago, calling him out in front of his friends, but something inside of him longed to have remained his friend. Would his own life have been better had Stan just...tried to be his friend? Would he have someone to lean on now?

The bell rang. Standing he grabbed his stuff and made for the door, getting caught behind Eric as he decided to grab Butter’s by the undergarments and hike them up. Gary grunted, chest bumping Eric’s back as a solid body hit his own. 

“Dude, Cartman,  _ walk _ !” Stan’s arm reached around the blonde and gave the round bodied boy a shove. 

“Ey! Don’t shove me you fuckin’ asshole!” Eric growled back. He stopped and shoved his body back, ramming Gary’s books into his chest and Gary into Stan. The blonde’s eyes slid shut, gritting his teeth as Stan shuffled forward, more of his body touching him than comfortable -although a voice inside his mind was completely ok with it. 

“Just  _ walk, _ fatass!” Kyle shouted a couple people back. “Smear yourself in some butter and slip on through before I kick your ass!” 

“Ey! Shut your stupid jew mouth!” Eric growled. 

“Please can I get through before the fists start flying, gentlemen?” Gary finally spoke, resting a hand on Eric’s back to gently motion him to step aside. Free from the oddly comfortable, sandwiched position between Stan and Eric, Gary took a couple free steps down the hall, now able to see Butter’s working on freeing his underwear from the depths of his ass crack. 

Stan ignored the threats of his childhood estranged friend, as what would have been considered his best friend stepped up to butt heads with the racist. It would have been a lie if Gary said he hadn’t at some point felt jealous of one of Stan’s friends, Kyle especially. As their friend group expanded and he remained excluded, it felt lonely. 

His heart fluttered a little when Stan took a step towards him, shifting past him to carry on down the hall to his own locker. If it weren’t for the burning need to ask a question -which one, he wasn’t sure yet- he would have followed suit and gone to his own locker, but he didn’t. 

“Stan, I know you owe me nothing, but can you afford me just a moment of your time?” Gary asked, approaching no closer than a few steps away. 

“Uh, sure?” Stan stopped, looking at him confused. 

“Thank you.” The blonde froze for a moment, looking into the other’s grey eyes. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to be Stan’s friend. “All of those years ago, when I wanted to be your friend...why was it so hard for you?” He asked, although that wasn’t his original question. What his original question had been? He didn’t remember now. 

“What?” Stan looked a little shocked, not quite understanding the question, or not quite understanding where it was coming from.

“When we were younger, why was it so hard for you to be my friend? I tried to be inclusive but you just...didn’t want anything to do with me.” Gary replied, leaning against the lockers. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his baby blue polo tucked into the waist of them and over it, buttoned at the middle button a beige and white gradient cardigan. His fashion hadn’t changed much in 6 years. He still wore his wavy, nearly white hair brushed to the side, and dress shoes with his cadigan. 

Stan however wore a letterman jacket and jeans ripped at the knees. He was disheveled and tired looking; all 5’11” of him. Occasionally, his breath smelled of alcohol, his clothes of marijuana. His face didn’t show any signs of facial hair beginning to grow, remaining smooth even though it was no longer baby-ish and round. 

“I don’t know. You were weird and friendly with everyone and that was creepy. And you had a creepy family and I chalked it up to you being Mormon.” Stan shrugged, turning to put his stuff in his locker. Bending down he grabbed a glove that had fallen out, the back of his shirt lifting in the back to flash off red, silky briefs. That wasn’t alarming at all, they were nice, up until he saw the name on the waistband in faded permanent marker saying  _ Kyle.  _

Gary bristled a bit, staring at the name, feeling like the air was thickening up. 

“My family was living a lie and now it’s in shambles. We would have been fine if you would have just kept your mouth shut.” Gary spoke again, his voice a little rough, a little angry, but at what? It wasn’t his crumbling family, what was it? 

“You’re blaming me?” Stan stood up, face twisting into disbelief and offense. “Dude, your family’s bullshit is your own shit to deal with. If your family is turning to shit, it’s because they always had the potential to be shit and you’re just realizing it.” He cornered the blonde against the lockers, Gary’s breath catching in his throat as Stan loomed over him. “Don’t blame me for you taking so damn long to realize that every family can suck!” 

“It’s because of you pointing out how stupid it all was that made my father think he had to reign us in to control us!” The shaking blonde insisted. The smell of alcohol was stronger today, and a smell that made him sad. 

“Dad’s shouldn’t  _ control _ anyone! God Gary, pull your head out of your ass and stop blaming everyone else!” Stan slammed his fist against the locker. “I was fine not talking to you! I was perfectly ok forgetting that you existed!” He stepped back, hands thrown in the air. Those words were like knives, cutting whatever balled up mess was forming in his belly. 

“I’ve sat back and watched you make friends with everyone in this school. You’ve pardoned Eric for literally raising a nazi army, getting your best friend thrown into a concentration camp,  _ betrayed _ you, sold you out, and you still remain his friend.” He nodded as he spoke, recollecting all of the shit they’d gone through, not realizing the crowd that was gathering thanks to Stan’s outburst. “You couldn’t sit through a board game after a home cooked meal at a potential friends because you didn’t like that your pot farmer of a dad was too stupid not to join the ‘craze’.” He spat. “I’m confused about watching my family turn to shit, but you couldn’t see  _ shit _ if your  _ boyfriend _ took a massive dump on your egotistical chest.” He flipped him off, a thrilled gasp coming from a boy in the crowd. 

“Oh, you’d love my family now, just as dysfunctional as the rest of this cesspit.” He shut Stan’s locker and began to walk away. “By the way, I’m sure  _ Kyle _ wants his underwear back.” He didn’t look back, his blood boiling. 

“Fuck you, Gary!” Stan shouted after him. “I’ll kick your ass!” 

“Doubt it.” The Mormon boy huffed. A second later, the sound of feet running up on him had him freeze, knees shaking. This was it, he was going to get hit for what he said. 

Not if he swung first. 

Stopped he whirled around, releasing a punch only to realize it wasn’t Stan. Pulling it at the last second, the punch collided with his stomach, but not as hard as it could have, making Craig Tucker double over with a ompf. “I’m sorry!” He reached out, stabilizing him, hand rubbing his back. 

“That’s ok,” Craig wheezed. “I just...wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out...or something.” He rubbed his belly, breathing a little choppy as he tried to regain control of it. 

“You don’t get punched in the gut much do you?” Gary asked, feeling sorry for him. 

“No- no I do not.” He grunted. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of crumpled up paper and a pen, writing a phone number down. He gave it to him. “If you want...my boyfriend and I are looking for friends who aren’t assholes. I’m...gonna go pee now.” He stood the best he could, hobbling away towards the bathroom. 

He was flattered, but it was hard to remain so knowing any chance of reconciliation with Stan was dashed against the rocks -and that his father would be livid when he found out he was texting the gay kid in school, whether Craig had a boyfriend or not. 

Sighing, he put the number in his pocket and made for the front doors. Shoving them open, he walked out, abandoning school for the first time ever. 

He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to be in school. He was a jumbled mess in his head and he didn’t know what to do, so he let his feet guide him. Wandering around until just walking drove him near enough insane. Growling at himself, he turned, pushing the front door to a small grocery store open, deciding that maybe a drink and a sandwich might do him good. 

He wasn’t an indecisive kid, he liked one thing and when it came to drinks, or super market sandwiches, but as he got back to the sodas, his eyes froze. His mother didn’t like them drinking soft drinks, but they were permitted to have one a day as long as they were clear sodas; so sprite or sierra mist. But his eyes remained on the purple label of the grape flavored soft drink he’d been offered the night before.

Three or four minutes passed, no thoughts in his mind but the smile of the robe clad boy, the way his lips twisted at the corners, and his blue eyes cut the darkness. Finally, opening the cooler, he grabbed the grape flavored drink and made his way to the cooler that had deli items. Salads, sandwiches, microwave hotdogs or burgers. 

Grabbing a chicken salad sandwich he made his way to the counter, eyes on his selection as he felt around for his wallet. “You find everything ok?” The man behind the register asked. His voice sounded familiar but Gary thought nothing of it. He was too busy frantically trying to find his wallet now. 

“Yes, thank you.” He replied, before remembering he never stopped by his own locker before storming out of the school. “Dammit.” He huffed, feeling a little distressed.

“You’re just one train wreck after another, aren’t you?” The man asked, the question revitalizing some of that angry bubbling in his blood. 

“Excuse me?” He looked up, ready to tear this stranger to pieces when his eyes caught his face. The face of the boy he talked to last night, staring back at him with that charming little smile, looking so innocent in the morning light. He felt that tingling through his arms and legs again, burning at his fingers and toes. He meant to say something but it came out as a deflated whine.

“Here, I got it.” He chuckled. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his card and popped it into the machine. Gary’s cheeks felt like they were on fire as Vinny punched in his number. “You should really put some makeup over that bruise, it’s really beginning to look like someone socked you.” 

“Someone did.” Gary muttered. 

“I know.” Vinny looked back at him playfully. “So uh, shouldn’t you be in school, not being a shifty stranger?” He asked, making jabs at the conversation that took place the night before. 

“Yeah well, I flipped off someone I wanted to be friends with and stormed out.” Gary replied as the receipt was printed and handed to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re not very good at making friends, huh?” Vinny teased, grabbing the soda, cracking the top and taking a sip. Gary stared at him dumbfounded as it was handed back. “How about this; I get off in an hour, you can come back to my place, we’ll order some pizza, I’ll get you outfitted and we can make a little offering tonight at Stark’s Pond?” He offered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Gary couldn’t speak, the sound of  _ offering _ setting off redflags. 

“Offering? Like...what kind of offering?” He asked, dreading the answer. 

“Tonight we are celebrating Aamon, Marquis of hell and 7th of 72 goetic demons. He tells of things past and future, reconciles controversies between friends and foes and procures love.” He explained. “So you’d bring an item that reminds you of a loved one you wish to reconcile any controversy with, someone you’re a foe of, blah blah blah.” He rolled his hand. “Just make sure to bring something you don’t mind losing for the foe bit.” It was an odd request, but Gary was sure he could do it. Did he want to was the main question. 

“I really don’t want to be a Satanist.” He spoke again after a moment of silence, finally daring to take his drink and take a sip, the knowledge the other had drank from it leaving him tingly again. 

“Going to one event doesn’t make you a Satanist anymore than going to Mass makes you a Christian. It’ll be fun.” He smirked, giving him a friendly wink. “See you in…” he turned his head, looking at the clock. “45 minutes.” Gary didn’t have time to argue before another customer pulled up, forcing him to grab his goods and go outside. 

He guessed it wouldn’t kill him to follow the plans for tonight. At least once. After all, his family did boast tolerance when he was 10.


End file.
